


This Algorithm Guarantees Nothing

by auralikh



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Crapitalism, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M, Post-Canon, Recovery, alter ego
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13072587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auralikh/pseuds/auralikh
Summary: Danganronpa has ended, and the three survivors have been making do in this world full of strangers. Or at least that's what Saihara had tried to tell himself, but when he gains access to the Alter Ego records from the New World Program, he finds that he can't let go of what happened in that killing game. One of those things happened to be the lie wrapped in an enigma covered by a riddle.





	1. Chapter 1

He thinks he ought to have recovered by now, but apparently surviving the killing game with the full awareness that there won’t be another isn’t enough to control the shiver down his back.

Saihara stares at the old laptop screen, waiting for the program to finish retrieving the data. Maki stands still next to his chair, watching the download bar progress pixel by pixel.

“To think the Neo World program was actually connected to an outside database. And anyone can just download the data if they wanted,” she sighed, brushing some of her hair behind her ear, “Are you sure about this?”

“It can’t hurt to try,” says Saihara, “It’s not like the program can hurt us.”

“I don’t see what you can get out of this, the alter egos.” Harukawa stays by his side regardless.

The waiting process should feel underwhelming. After all, the virtual reality program which once took up an entire room and featured futuristic headsets with wires connected everywhere was now contained in this clunky laptop that could only import the memory and personality data of a single person at a time, not even including the cutesy, simplistic graphics. So much for seeing anyone’s face again, even if it was in an extremely stylized form. Instead, Saihara and Harukawa were introduced to a simple messenger program with the following prompt:

neo_world: Enter user’s name first, then person to talk to.

Saihara glances up at Harukawa.

“...You can go first,” she turns away from the laptop, “It’s not like the real person exists inside. Just some program.”Saihara was about to ask if she was sure, but she had already walked away and made sure to shut the door behind her.

Saihara dims the brightness setting on the computer to match the single desk lamp that illuminates the small room. The computer screen waits for him, the program window completely black except for the green text prompt.

user: Saihara Shuichi, Ouma Kokichi

neo_world: Loading …

Saihara finds himself staring off into the distance as five minutes passed by, still loading. Considering the meager budget he, Harukawa, and Yumeno had for a computer while trying to assimilate to the “real world”, it was no surprise that trying to work with any aspect of the Neo World Program is a little much for the processor. Either that or Ouma’s data is just particularly hard to work with. There’s no way that all those layers of lies, deceptions, and truths labelled as lies could easily be stamped onto lines of code, could it? ...No. He shouldn’t be doubting the power of technology nowadays, considering Kiibo, Monokuma, and the Flashback Lights.

Five minutes turn to twenty. Saihara scribbles down a grocery list in the meantime, even adding some snacks that they really shouldn’t buy at the moment, considering that Maki was essentially supporting all three of them. The… odd legal situation of a “fictional character” superimposed on a real human being makes it impossible for him to work in real detective work, and Yumeno still needs time and supplies to make a proper magic show. Street performance might be better for her at this point, honestly.

He ponders for a moment if street performance would actually be safe in this unknown city they’re in when he notices a new line at the bottom of the terminal window.

ouma_kokichi: Saihara-chan~ what brings you here? Did you change your mind and decide to work with me after all?

Well, at least Saihara doesn’t have to worry about the low-end computer somehow making the alter ego sound out of character somehow.

saihara_shuichi: The killing game’s over.  
ouma_kokichi: Oh? You expect me to believe something like that?  
saihara_shuichi:… No. I don’t have any evidence to make you believe either. I’m literally typing this on a laptop that downloaded data from the Neo World Program.

A pause.

ouma_kokichi: Hm, I see. Say, Saihara-chan, did I make it?  
saihara_shuichi: No. It’s only Harukawa-san, Yumeno-san, and myself.  
ouma_kokichi: Aw, I was hoping you loved me so much you wanted two versions to yourself.  
ouma_kokichi: Sounds like Momota-chan couldn’t pull it off either. Figures. It’s a miracle how that idiot lasted for so long, y’know? Oooh, was I able to give the finishing blow before that illness got him?  
ouma_kokichi: It’d be such a waste for someone to die of sickness in a killing game.

Saihara reads over the line again. “Couldn’t pull it off”? That made it sound like Ouma was already planning, if not completely prepared, the suicide plan before Iruma’s trial even started. Before Ouma had gone with the insane plan of taking over the mastermind role just to stop the killing game. Just how far was he looking ahead this entire time? While Saihara was taking things one case at a time, Ouma was playing chess with the mastermind.

saihara_shuichi: Did you already plan for Momota-kun to kill you?  
ouma_kokichi: Nishishi, silly Saihara-chan. I’ve been planning all possible scenarios since day one! What else would you expect from the Supreme Leader?  
saihara_shuichi: To survive, if they were that good at foreseeing all scenarios.  
ouma_kokichi: …  
ouma_kokichi: Only if my survival was all that mattered. You should know by now, I would never lose a game. Even at the cost of my life.

Saihara isn’t sure what he expected. Something a little more honest, more straightforward this time? For once? What the hell was he thinking, this is Ouma after all. Never the one to trust anyone, at least until that final plan of his. He wished the program could just see he was the real thing through the webcam, or recognize his voice. It’d be even nicer if he could hear the other’s voice, or his face. Even if the avatar version was much simpler than the real thing, definitely beats chatting through the terminal. The thing looks worse than the old AIM messenger.

ouma_kokichi: Aw, are you getting bored of me already? Is it because you only get to see this chibi face instead of the real thing?  
saihara_shuichi: No, just… thinking  
ouma_kokichi: Eugh you and your thinking. You know, it’s really boring when you stare off into space pretending to drive a car when you’re thinking during the trial.  
saihara_shuichi: What  
ouma_kokichi: omg don’t tell me you didn’t know… then again that explains why you do it every trial

Saihara bites his lip to hold himself back from typing a response. This isn’t going anywhere, and he’s sure that Harukawa’s waiting on the other side of the door to get her chance at trying this program. Saihara glanced at the door behind him and then back to the screen, drawing his attention back to the black screen with the green text.

saihara_shuichi: You seemed to know a lot.  
saihara_shuichi: Evidence stashed away in your room, schematic drawings, your whole mastermind plan and your emergency backup plan.

Another pause. This might just be in Saihara’s mind, but it feels much longer than the first pause.

ouma_kokichi: Woooow, so you figured that out. I expected nothing less from my beloved Saihara.  
saihara_shuichi: Kokichi. How’d you figure out about the nanokumas. That this was all just a show, that our memories were faked. Are you hiding more from us?

Why couldn’t you have just told somebody, he has to keep himself from adding. But that was Ouma, an ever persistent yet evasive figure. Always up to something while constantly dodging probes. Not that most people ever bothered to try. So it was more like the few times that Saihara did try. Perhaps he should’ve tried more.

ouma_kokichi: Nishishi, you’re going to need a bit more to buy access to my origin story and other secret information.

Actually no, maybe he was right the first time.

saihara_shuichi: The game’s over. What reason would you possibly have to keep acting like this?  
ouma_kokichi: Hm, well I mean, it’d be boring to just lay things out like that. No one likes an exposition dump.

Saihara just force exits out of the program.

He opens the door and sees Harukawa standing there as he expected, leaning against the wall, “Harukawa-san, I’m done. The program’s not too bad once it loads up the person. Are you sure Yumeno-san doesn’t want to try it?”

“She said no the first time so I’m not going to push her.”

Saihara lets out an audible sigh after Harukawa closes the door behind her and he was left alone in the dimly lit hallway. He stands there, hand covering his mouth, eyes looking down at the dark wooden floor. Why in the world was he doing this anyway? Saihara got literally nothing from this, and honestly it might’ve been better to talk to Momota, someone who he could always trust full-heartedly.

But Momota never knew half as much as Ouma did. And now Saihara wants to know. No, he needs to know. He couldn’t just leave the world of Danganronpa with thirteen deaths on his shoulders and just move on as if it was just some mundane event in his life that didn’t need explanation. It just wouldn’t sit right with the detective.

He needs to know what Danganronpa was. More importantly, he needs to know who Ouma Kokichi was.


	2. Chapter 2

Seven days, seven conversations with the Ouma alter ego. Saihara’s not sure if he’ll ever get the answers he wants, or if he’s already gotten some of them. Some of the statements that Ouma has said throughout his multiple attempts to gain some knowledge, either about the game or the boy himself, ranged from… one kind of absurdity to another. The statements jumble together, only held up with some kind of structure with the chat logs that Saihara can look back on. He keeps a word file on some chunks, with more specific underlined highlights.

_Ouma_kokichi: I remember everything before the game started. How heartbroken did you think I was when I found out my beloved Saihara-chan didn’t remember me? After all we’ve been through..._

 

_Ouma_kokichi: I was always ready to throw away my body! That’s why Shirogane-chan and I worked on the plot together. Maybe you should’ve taken a better look at my lab~_

 

_Ouma_kokichi: Oh, the audition tapes! Out of those three, only Akamatsu-chan’s was real._

_Ouma_kokichi: I only know this cause you, me, and Momota-chan went together. A suicide mission of sorts._

_Ouma_kokichi: Momota-chan was just an add-on, though. I meant to go with you for a long, long time._

 

_Ouma_kokichi: Your friends and family are real. At least as real as me, nishishi~_

 

_Ouma_kokichi: Don’t trust anything from the flashback lights, but trust Shirogane-chan’s words even less._

_Ouma_kokichi: It’s one thing to lie, but it’s another to keep pulling shit out of your ass for a glorified fanfiction._

 

_Ouma_kokichi: I could get you in contact with DICE, they’re much bigger liars than me. But it’ll cost you~_

 

It’s the eighth morning and Saihara feels like he had no reason to try again yet here he is, sitting down by the desk since the chair is just a roll away from the bed. He finds himself relying on the cheap lamp again, since the sun is only now starting to rise, lazy from the winter weather.

 

Saihara_shuichi: If I say yes, would you finally be honest with me?

Ouma_kokichi: I have been honest with you! For the most part.

Ouma_kokichi: But you nitpicky detectives like you just _have_ to know, don’t you? Eugh, so nosy.

 

It’s all just a game to this Ouma. It’s all just a game to this program, no longer bound to the dangers and risks of the killing game. This program has nothing to do outside of talking with him. That’s why this alter ego Ouma is stalling, purely for entertainment. There’s no pretending to act villainous for some heroic motive here. There’s nothing heroic or villainous about an exposition dump. There’s just entertainment for entertainment’s sake. Is this just what Ouma is like in a non-life threatening situation?

Saihara holds down the control button, tempted to force exit and make better use of his time. His pinky remains pressed on the button but nothing else happens. What would he do anyway? He had tried talking to the Momota alter ego but stopped after a few times. It seemed like it was going in circles, the Momota there seemed somehow flatter. Conversations converged to old encouragements: “Don’t worry, you’re my sidekick after all!”, “It’s alright, I believe in you and Harumaki and Himiko”, “I know that you can figure out the truth and what’s beyond it. I know you can never let that killing game get to you.” Even Harukawa stopped attempting to talk to Momota after a couple of attempts.

Saihara wonders if Momota’s code broke because of Iruma’s interference. He could confirm by talking to the others but there was no real reason to talk to Miu, and he doesn’t want to make Gonta feel terrible again. Kiibo’s been influenced the most in this game, but that might be worth looking into later. And Shirogane… No, he can’t. Not now. Maybe never.

So here he is, back to Ouma’s antics. (At least with lies, one can always generate a new one.)

 

Saihara_shuichi: You’re just trying to stall for no reason.

Ouma_kokichi: No reason? Saihara-chan, you know I never do things for no reason! Rude.

Saihara_shuichi: ...Then why are you trying to stall?

Ouma_kokichi: Why?

Ouma_kokichi: Why, it’s because I miss you, Saihara-chan. It’s so boring here, there’s nothing interesting to do.

Ouma_kokichi: Besides, it seems like you’re the same too. You’ve been talking to me an awful lot, I’m flattered.

 

Saihara starts typing a response, pauses, deletes it, pauses some more.

 

Saihara_shuichi: No I don’t.

 

The computer lags for five seconds.

 

Ouma_kokichi: Great! Cause I don’t care what you think anyway.

 

* * *

 

“I guess I could go for tutoring, I shouldn’t need any papers to help an elementary school kid…” Saihara mutters to himself, his mittened hands fumbling through the pages of the newspaper. Babysitting and other odd jobs could only help them so much, and the last thing Saihara wants to be is just another burden. It takes some effort, but he folds up the newspaper and puts it back in his shopping bag, nestled in between the eggs and the tofu. He looks back up at his surroundings and doesn’t recognize a single building. Wait, where is he?

Saihara frowns, it probably wasn’t a good idea to walk while looking at a newspaper. There didn’t appear to be a single person on this street, which makes sense because who would be out on a cold Sunday morning like this anyway. Still, there ought to be some stores open, he could ask a store owner inside for directions. He enters the nearest door to a small toy store.

“Welcome- Oh, are you a Danganronpa fan? We’ve still got some of the limited edition goods right here.” The store owner, a portly, balding man, gestures at the shelves closest to him.

“Oh no I-” Saihara stops when he sees all of the merchandise on the shelves. The first one contains plushies, all in the art style of the Neo World program. He’s not sure what freaks him out more: the row of plushies sporting his face, looking right at him with sewed in smiles, or the plushies of everyone who had died. There’s even whole rows dedicated to what Saihara assumes were the most “popular” characters, including himself, Ouma, and Akamatsu. The other shelf consisted of a myriad of different types of merchandise, including key chains, cups, figures and even notebooks.

The store owner takes the gaping as a positive sign and plucks out one of the Saihara plushies, “These plushies are very popular, they even include over thirty voiced lines.” The man squeezes the plushie’s hand.

“ _No that’s wrong!”_ Saihara flinches. It shouldn’t surprise him that corporations have access to recordings of his voice, but that doesn’t stop the jarring feeling he gets from the plushie and the entirety of the store. He forces his eyes away from the plushie to the store owner, but meets a reflection of his own face in the glare of the man’s glasses.

“Very realistic, right? It’s surprising they kept such a good audio quality for a plushie.” Too realistic, Saihara feels like there’s something caught in his throat, like his voice was stolen for the recording. “Right now there’s a buy one, get one half off sale. Which one do you ship him with? Akamatsu? Ouma?” Saihara wants to ask what in the world a ship means in this context but the store owner picks up the other two and squeezes the Ouma plushie to make him laugh.

It sounds too real. He sees something white from the corner of his eye and he looks over. Could it possibly-? No it was just a poster, and it wasn’t even of Ouma, but of some random character in another show, clad in all white. Why was the poster five foot tall then? To specifically torment him? Ouma will never be back, none of the others will ever be back, no matter how much the merchandise says otherwise. Saihara looks back at the small plushie of Ouma, that juxtaposition of the matching voice and the simplified face with the bead eyes and lack of mouth. A chill goes down his spine.

Getting better was never supposed to be a straight line, but it feels like it should when all you can see is the rail going down, down, out of sight, into a simple button black.

“So, what do you think?” The inquiry sounds too cheery, too fake (just like everything else.)

Saihara responds in equal fakeness.

"Great, I'll take it."


End file.
